


christmas is coming

by wrongtree



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Fluff, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multiple Orgasms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-03-01 05:37:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2761595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrongtree/pseuds/wrongtree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>nick and harry spend another christmas together, plus orgasms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	christmas is coming

**Author's Note:**

  * For [takhallus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/takhallus/gifts).



> the prompt i went with was "any fluffy romances which also involve smut somewhere along the way", hopefully this fulfills that :)
> 
> shout out to my beta who helped me actually finish this fic by taking it in a better direction. you know what they say about fics, they go better when they're going in... _one direction_

“Oh yeah, get it in there, deeper, yeah! God, yeah,” Nick’s screaming, far too loud for the small space of the room they’re in.

Harry throws a hand over his mouth, trying to keep him quiet. “Shut up, Nick!” He really does want Nick to be quieter but he’s laughing too hard for it to have any authority.

“God, it’s stuffed in there so well!” He moans, shoving more dressing into the turkey.

Harry doesn’t know why Anne thought it would be a good idea to let the two of them prepare Christmas dinner. Harry’s pretty competent in the kitchen but Nick is a disaster; he’s okay with taking directions but gets bored and distracted really easily so he’ll start acting up. Harry’s had to stop him from putting a whole jar of peaches into the turkey _twice_ already.

Harry wraps his fingers around Nick’s wrist and tries to pull it out of the turkey, but Nick just pushes it in farther, “YEAH HARRY, HELP ME PUT IT IN.” He leans in closer to Harry and whispers, “Gonna be so stretched with two hands in there.”

Exasperated, Harry pulls away from him and punches him in shoulder, then covers his face with his hands, shaking his head. Nick cackles at Harry’s reaction and starts moaning, thrusting his hips against the counter while putting more seasoned bread into the bird.

Harry’s about to tell him off again when a third voice joins the conversation, “Nick, stop fisting the food, save it for your alone time. Hazhead, mum needs your help with the table.”

Gemma cackles when Nick stops dead, his whole hand still in the turkey, and starts babbling like he wants to explain himself but has realized there’s no way to.

“Gem, I don’t know if we can trust him in here by himself. He’ll probably burn the kitchen down and try to blame it on the stuffed turkey.” Harry smirks and slaps Nick on the bum before exiting the kitchen.

“That was _one time_!” Nick hollers after him.

-

Nick is dancing with the turkey baster, singing an old Missy Elliott song, when Harry makes it back from speaking to Anne. While they were setting the table she asked which scent Nick liked better, lavender or lemon, and wanted to make sure he felt welcomed and included, as if they hadn’t spent the past three Christmases together. Harry reassured her that Nick was just fine, loved spending time with them, and was happy to help. Then she kissed his forehead and whispered “you’re so happy with him love, that makes me happy too.” before shooing him away.

The kitchen isn’t actually a disaster, surprisingly enough, but Nick is covered in things. Flour, dressing, peaches, some kind of red paste, there’s an inexplicable kernel of corn stuck on his jumper, and Harry is in love with him, probably.

Nick’s in the middle of crooning the chorus when Harry rests his hand on the small of Nick’s back, causing the man to jump and let out a loud, high pitched screech Harry knows he’ll try to deny later.

He spins around quickly and whacks Harry on the shoulder. “Bleedin’ Christ, Harry. Warn a bloke, would ya?”

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time, Nicholas “Misdemeanor” Grimshaw.” Nick scowls and mutters “shurrup” under his breath.

The turkey seems ready enough, once Harry checks it over and makes sure Nick hasn’t put anything strange inside, and the two of them lift it into the oven.

Nick sets the timer and Harry crowds up against his back, resting his hands over Nick’s stomach. “Hey, how many times do you think I can come before the turkey is done?” he whispers into Nick’s ear.

Nick’s eyes widen as he spins in Harry’s arms. “That’s like five hours!”

Harry smirks. “Exactly.”

Nick rips off his apron and throws it into the sink, saying he’ll deal with it later, and then drags Harry through the house and up to his childhood bedroom.

It’s late in the morning of Christmas Eve and Harry knows he should probably spend it with his family since he doesn’t get to see them often, but Gemma’s secluded herself in her room to wrap presents, demanding that no one interrupt her, Robin’s been snoozing on and off for an hour in front of the telly, and Anne’s been flitting in and out of the house running errands, so he doesn’t feel too bad. Especially not when Nick pushes him up against the closed door of his room and starts kissing his neck.

Harry’s helpless but to stand there and let Nick suck a mark under his jaw, leaving a throbbing bruise while he runs his hands over Harry’s body. He’s murmuring sweet nothing’s against Harry’s skin, about how hot he looks, how clean he smells, how good he’s being, how Nick can’t wait to absolutely wreck him in his childhood bed.

Harry can’t help but whine at that, his hips jerking up into Nick’s hand.

“You like that, Haz? You’re filthy. So needy for it, and in your childhood bedroom even.” Nick presses the heel of his palm down hard on Harry’s thickening length.

“Bed, Nick, c’mon,” Harry whines, needing the contact.

Nick spins them and pushes Harry down onto the small, creaky mattress before climbing up and shoving his thigh between Harry’s legs. Harry immediately presses up into it, craving the pressure as Nick leans down to press their lips together. His mouth immediately falls open, making room for Nick’s tongue to lick along his own.

They snog for a long while, until Harry’s lips feel twice their usual size and Nick’s are slick and red from where Harry has been biting them whenever Nick presses down too heavily, the pressure so intense. Harry’s fully hard, cock aching in the tight confines of his skinny jeans; he’s sure if he looked he’d see a dark wet patch on the front of them.

Harry spreads his legs the tiniest bit more and Nick smirks. “So easy f’me, Harry. Gonna come in your pants like a kid? Be just like old times in here, innit?"

Nick uses his knee to spread Harry’s legs even wider and reaches his hand down to palm over the zipper of Harry’s trousers, “You’re so hard,” he whispers.

“M’gonna come, Nick, stop,” Harry whines, writhing under the man.

Nick just keeps stroking him, wrapping his hand around the outline of his cock. “You wanted to see how many times you could come, number one starts right here.” He emphasizes the end of his sentence with a good squeeze and Harry comes.

He jerks under Nick as he releases into his pants; he knows he’ll regret it later but right now he feels too good from his orgasm to care about the sticky warmth in his trousers.

Nick pulls his hand away only to unzip Harry’s trousers and wiggle both them and his pants down Harry’s legs before tossing them to the floor.

Harry’s cock is still hard, red against his hip and Nick leans down to run his tongue from the base to the tip, licking the come into his mouth. Harry gasps, sensitive, turned on as he is, the sensation is too much to handle so soon after climax.

The gasp doesn’t stop Nick from cleaning off Harry’s spent cock with slow and torturing licks, running his tongue along the vein on the underside up to suckle on the head. He runs the tip of his tongue over the slit and cleans that out too. Harry’s finding it hard to breathe with how sensitive he still is, the sensations amazing but too much. All he can do is take short breaths and try to keep his mind above the throbbing but delicious pain. Nick licks his lips and stretches up to kiss Harry, sharing the leftover come between their mouths, mostly bitter but the tiniest bit sweet from all the fruit Harry insists on eating in the morning.

“Got another for me?” Nick asks into Harry’s mouth gently.

Harry knows he can do it and even though his cock is sore, he relishes in the pain he knows comes with an almost immediate second orgasm. He closes his eyes and nods.

“Good boy,” Nick whispers, patting over his chest with one hand. “Want you to get yourself hard again, okay? Can you do that?”

Harry whines, but reaches down and wraps a fist around his cock anyway. The coolness of his rings on his hot length sends a shiver up his spine as he gives himself a couple of fast strokes.

Nick, who has rearranged himself to sit cross-legged next to Harry, puts his hand on top of Harry’s to slow his movements down. He doesn’t say anything, just sets a pace and pulls his hand away, resting it over one of Harry’s pecs instead, thumbing over his nipples until they’re hard.

The feeling goes straight to Harry’s groin but he keeps the slow pace, pulling his foreskin forward and back as he gets harder and harder. He presses the pad of his thumb into the frenulum under the head of his cock and rubs over his slit, using the precome there to ease his hand’s way back down to the base of his cock. He stops there and groans when Nick pinches his nipple hard between two fingers.

“You’re doing so well Hazza, keep going.”

-

Harry wakes up to Nick rubbing gently over his belly and hips, whispering for him to wake up as he kisses along his jaw and hairline. Without even opening his eyes, he scrunches them tighter and tries to roll over and fall back into the comatose post-orgasm(s) sleep he had been in before.

“Harry, c’mon, we’ve got to shower before dinner,” Nick coaxes.

“M’sleep,” Harry mutters. His entire body is exhausted, bones feeling like the weight of eight fully grown elephants.

“You did so well, Harry. Gotta clean you up though, you’re a mess.”

He doesn’t doubt it. He thinks Nick wiped him down with a flannel after he came for the final time but he can’t be sure. He was too sated to do much other than give Nick a sloppy kiss to the cheek and fall asleep. While he’s sure Nick took care of him, he knows that a shower will be sure to get rid of any mess left over.

Harry moans but lifts his arms up, silently asking Nick to help him out of the bed. Nick sighs but wraps his arms gently around Harry’s wrists and pulls him up and to his feet. Harry yawns and tries to walk forward but his legs feel like jelly and he tumbles into Nick’s arms.

“Shit, Haz, are you okay?” He asks, cupping Harry’s face with a soft hand.

“Yeah, just, dunno. Tired I guess. Took a lot out of me.” Harry blinks and looks up at Nick’s deeply concerned face, quickly adding, “Was good though. Loved it. My legs just aren’t ready to be legs yet.”

Nick chuckles and kisses the top of Harry’s head before helping him hobble to the washroom, where he draws them a bath. “Thought it would be better for you to sit down, rather than try and stand.”

Harry thanks him with a kiss and makes to slide into the tub, pausing to take his clothes off before he remembers he’s completely starkers. He shakes his head and toes gently into the tub, immediately sticking his head under the warm water where he stays for a moment before resurfacing, taking a deep breath. He pushes his hair out of his face and looks at Nick, who is just sitting on the loo, fully clothed in pajamas, scrolling through his phone.

“Aren’t you getting in?” Harry asks, confused.

“‘Course, yeah, if y’want me to.”

Harry gives him a look. They always, or as often as they can, wash together after a scene like that. Or any other time, really.

Nick chuckles at the look on Harry’s face, “Right. Yes. Bathing.”

He strips quickly, getting his arm caught in his shirt for a moment that has Harry giggling hysterically, and then also slides into the tub, settling behind Harry.

Harry smiles happily and leans back against Nick’s chest, chuckling when Nick’s chest hair tickles his ear. They just relax there for a minute, Nick gently rubbing Harry’s belly while Harry breathes in the familiar scent of Nick’s skin.

Eventually, Nick wets a flannel, lathers it up with soap, and drags it slowly over Harry’s skin, starting at his shoulders and working over high up on his chest.

“Gentle,” Harry whispers as Nick lowers the cloth over his pectorals, nipples still sensitive from when he’d sucked on them while Harry came for the fourth time.

“‘Course, babe. Gonna be so gentle with you,” Nick whispers back as he scrubs down Harry’s belly.

Harry whines when Nick reaches his cock, dropping the flannel as he wraps a loose hand around it. Nick just strokes his soft cock once but it’s far too much for Harry, who came dry on his sixth and final orgasm of the day.

“Too much,” he says, even though Nick has already let go and is kissing both of his shoulders, behind his right ear, the top of his head.

“Lean forward a bit babe.” Nick guides him forward with a gentle hand and Harry can hear the snick of a bottle opening, then feels Nick’s hands lathering up shampoo in his hair.

Nick takes his time with it, really massaging the product through Harry’s curls, and Harry has a hard time keeping his eyes open. He loves hands in his hair, loves fingers carding through his curls and the gentle tug when they get stuck. He loves it both as a comfort thing, and as a sexual thing, and Nick seems to know just when to do it.

“Tip your head back.” Nick instructs, and Harry does so before the man dumps some water over his head, covering Harry’s eyes so no water gets in while the suds are rinsed from his hair.

While Nick washes the shampoo from his hair and rubs a bit of conditioner into the ends of his long locks, Harry lulls in and out of sleep, comfortable in the warm water and Nick’s presence behind him.

Harry leans back against him again while the conditioner sits in his hair and Nick quickly washes his own, or at least that’s what Harry assumes he’s doing while his chest and elbows knock about.

“Love you, y’know,” Harry says into Nick’s chest, tilting his head up to look at him.

Nick looks down with wide eyes and his hair dripping all over his face, “Love you so much, Harry. So, so much,” he says as he leans in to kiss him.

When they’re all clean and pruny, Nick gets out and fetches the fluffiest towels he can find. He helps Harry out of the tub and scrubs the dampness from Harry’s hair before wrapping him up and kissing his nose as Harry frowns slightly at the lack of use of his arms. Harry stands in a towel burrito and admires Nick’s body while the man dries himself off and wraps towel around his waist.

Once they’re mostly dried off Nick guides them back to the bedroom, one hand on Harry’s waist and one hand on his bum, and helps him unwrap himself from the towel confines.

Harry’s not sure whether it’s to do with the fact that they’re going to be late for dinner if they don’t hurry, or if it’s that he came six times and dry earlier, but Nick doesn’t try any funny business while they get dressed. He doesn’t grope Harry’s bare arse and he doesn’t steal Harry’s festive red pants or try to put them on his head and he doesn’t beg to give Harry a blow job. He doesn’t do anything but kiss him sweetly on the nose again once Harry’s pulled his Christmas jumper over his head.

Harry watches as Nick pulls on his matching Christmas jumper, a North Pole scene complete with baubles and bells, and shimmies into his ridiculous sparkly red skinny jeans.

“Hey,” Harry whispers, “c’mere.” Nick easily takes the step to him and wraps him in a hug. “Thank you,” Harry tells him softly.

“Love you,” is all Nick needs to reply.

They snog for a minute, not near as heated as their snogs usually are, and then give each other a once over to make sure they are presentable enough for Harry’s parents.

Harry feels pretty stable on his feet now but Nick helps him down the stairs with a hand on his waist nonetheless.

Anne, Robin, and Gemma are all sat around the table, still-steaming turkey in the center, surrounded by vegetables and candles and glittering red decorations, as Harry and Nick stumble into the room. Anne looks up with a sweet but questioning look and Harry just ducks his head sheepishly.

“Have you been sleeping all this time?” Anne asks.

Harry coughs, “Uh, a bit? Not the whole time. Just, a little…” He trails off with another cough.

“All his hard work on the food really knocked the energy out of him,” Nick says, sarcastically.

Anne quirks an eyebrow but smiles. “But truly Nick, thank you for all your help. And you too, Harry.”

“Hazhead didn’t do anything but make moon eyes at Nick all morning!” Gemma says, spooning some mash onto her plate.

“Hey,” Harry whines, drawing the word out. “And what did you do?”

“Wrapped all the bloody presents so you have something to open in the morning!” She retorts.

Harry makes a face at Gemma, who sticks her tongue out at him.

Anne coughs and they both look at her. “Apologize to each other,” she warns.

They immediately start squabbling again. Harry swears she started it.

Robin reaches over and covers Anne’s hand with his own while he shakes his head, “Children,” he says.

Nick’s in the middle of sipping wine when he starts laughing, spurting into his glass and causing the liquid to fly up into his face. His bug eyes make Harry laugh, immediately forgetting his row with Gemma.

In the end, they all start laughing, tears rolling down their faces while they clutch their stomachs. Harry’s really happy and he’s surrounded by all the people he loves who are really happy too.

When they quiet down Anne gets sentimental. “I’m really thankful for my family. My two kids and my great husband and my son’s incredible boyfriend.” Nick squeezes Harry’s hand at that, and all he can do is squeeze back, he knows. “I’m just,” she says, wiping away a tear. “I’m really proud to call you my family.”

Harry sniffs too; he wouldn’t want to be anywhere but right here, right now.

 

(Things get a little silly, as most things do when Harry, Nick, and Gemma are involved. Harry scoops some brussel sprouts onto his plate and Nick leans over and whispers “Only five? Sure you don’t want to go for six?” into Harry’s ear, mimicking what he’d said earlier.

Harry coughs and accidentally spits all over himself.

Gemma, who laughs and points at Harry, ends up knocking her wine glass over in the process, spilling red all over the cloth.

Robin quickly runs to get a flannel and trips over the cat, who jumps into Nick’s lap, who startles and jumps back, tipping over his chair.

Harry thinks it’s the funniest thing in the world and bends himself in half laughing, only to knock his face into the table.

Anne simply lifts her cloth napkin to dab at the corner of her mouth before taking a sip of wine and rolling her eyes at her zoo of a family.)


End file.
